Worn
by Elricia Kain
Summary: After Loki is back in Asgard, he is worn, tired, bitter, and angry. And it is only made worse by more loss. [contains spoilers]
1. Chapter 1

Bitterness was all Loki knew as he was escorted into the dungeons. Deep down, he knew he had erred, but all at once he didn't know what he should have done otherwise. All he had wanted was recognition, one way or another. Was that too much to ask for? All his dear brother had to do was lift a hammer, and he was loved and adored. Because he was strong and brave, qualities not everyone had been born with. Always, no matter what he did, Loki was overshadowed. Was it so wrong to wish to be seen as equal to his own brother? Why was he so beneath Odin's respect?

Tch. Loki knew why. He was a monster. A creature that even he had been raised despising. He was a relic, taken as an object of truce. All his life he had been told that he had a chance to become king of Asgard, when in reality that chance was nonexistent, no matter his efforts. The glory had and always would belong to his hot-headed brother. No matter what talents he had, he could never have been equal to Thor in Odin's eyes.

Only one person had ever recognized his abilities, had looked him with the same love Thor always received. Frigga. His mother. Even still, despite knowing his true parentage, Loki called her "mother" with the same love he always had. She had never pressured him to become strong and brave, as so many others had done. She had seen where his true talents had been, his cleverness and his cunning. She had taught him magic, even when all of the Aesir looked for brute strength in their people, because she knew that he would excel at it. She had truly loved him.

And he would never see her again. Against his will, he felt his eyes begin to sting—but still he kept his head high. A day would never come when Loki, prince of Asgard, would be seen weakened by emotion. He turned to one of the guards.

"These chains are beginning to chafe. Mind adjusting them?" Loki held out his wrists. The guard huffed.

"The Allfather warned us of your tricks," he said haughtily. "I won't fall for anything." The guard, far more dramatically than was necessary, turned away; clearly he was newly appointed and very proud of his new position. Loki shrugged, smirking slightly. He hadn't really expected it to work, anyway. So instead he made a great show of trying to adjust his wrists on his own, jangling the chains as loudly and obnoxiously as he could all the way to the dungeons—despite the fact that it really only made him more uncomfortable. As they neared the cell, another of the guards rolled their eyes.

"You'll have plenty of time to stretch your damn wrists in your cell," he said, clearly exasperated. Loki didn't say anything. He just defiantly jangled the chains once more before being shoved unceremoniously into the cell, tripping over the shackles that bound his ankles. Quickly and none too gently, the guards removed the chains before Loki could stand, and the wall that enclosed the cell was immediately raised. It would keep him in, and anyone else out.

Loki watched the backs of the guards disappear around the corner before examining his new space. There were a few sparse furnishings already within, alongside a pile of books—clearly Frigga had been involved. This was more than could be said for most of the other cells, and already there were other prisoners glaring and making rude gestures. Ignoring the taunts and jeers being called out at him, he lay down slowly on the thin bed. It was then that the gravity of his situation struck him.

His freedom was gone entirely. In the past, he had at least been able to roam the realms, to escape from everything if he wished. Even the tortures that the Other and Thanos had been able to concoct had provided a painful escape; at least they had kept him from dwelling too long on anything. Now, however, he was reduced to the space of a single exposed room. He could try to escape, certainly, but the chance of Odin merely capturing him again—or simply just killing him—was too great.

Loki was trapped, confined within his mind, and most of all—though he hated to admit it to himself—he was lonely. Throughout his life, all Loki had ever craved was the recognition of others. Oftentimes the recognition was as an enemy or an opponent, or sometimes merely as a nuisance. However, although it had never been what he truly craved, he had still been seen as something. He had always been defined by his contrast with others, by the way he tended to clash. In an odd way, it had always been a consolation; he could always cause trouble for others.

Now, even that was taken from him. There was nothing left for him but his little cell and the pile of books in the corner, and the hatred and disappointment he would receive from everyone he had once known. All he wanted was to fade away, to disappear. He was tired of everything. Tired of hurting. Why couldn't Odin have just left him to die as he had been meant to? There had never been any true hope for him. He was angry and he was hurt, and he was bitter and he was lost.

Loki shut his eyes tight. No. Not everything was lost. He still had a shred of pride left from his—albeit perhaps false—grooming as a prince. He wouldn't lose it, not yet. He vowed to himself that he would still stand proud, regardless of his situation, regardless of anything else that might happen. He was still Loki, prince of Asgard. Despite how far he had fallen, he wouldn't let Odin, Thor, or anyone else see him fall completely. He wouldn't let them have that satisfaction.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days had passed. Already Loki had devoured two books, and currently he was lying on his bed, trying in vain to take a nap. Sleep had always had a habit of evading him, and it was proving its reluctance yet again.  
Suddenly, he felt the hair on the back of his head stand on end. There was something in the cell with him. Sitting bolt upright, Loki's eyes were met with a bittersweet sight.

"Mother," he gasped unthinkingly. There she stood, in the middle of his cell, brushing invisible crumbs off her gown. "What—?" Loki began, confused.

"Loki," Frigga interrupted, reaching out to him. Loki appraised the figure, sensing a familiar aura.

"I didn't know you could cast illusions here from all the way up in Odin's halls," he said, regaining his cold composure. Frigga smiled sadly, the edges of her form briefly flickering green.

"Would you rather I not?" she said. Loki blinked slowly.

"What do you want?" he said.

"I just wanted to see that you are settled." Her familiar eyes bored into his, and he looked away.

"I'm fine. You don't have to stay." Loki didn't know why he was being so curt. After all, more than anything, he had wanted to see her again. But his tongue had been whet so sharply in the past years that he couldn't help it. She just smiled again; a sad smile that was all too familiar. It was akin to Loki's own. He was silent for a moment that felt like eternity before speaking again. "And what does Odin think of this? Surely he doesn't want his queen mingling with criminals."

"You are not the only one capable of keeping secrets, Loki," she said pointedly. Her face softened. "The Allfather just wants to keep you safe." Loki grunted.

"Safe, of course. He's kept me completely safe ever since he let me fall from the Bifröst." Sarcasm dripped from every word like poison.

"We mourned you, Loki," Frigga said, a pained expression on her face.

"And did Odin share your sentiment?" Loki pressed. "Of course not. My usefulness was spent, wasn't it? Why would he need an adopted monster anymore when he had the perfect son?"

"You judge him too harshly."

"What reason has he given me to not? Always has he favored Thor over me. He made no effort to hide it. No one did, except..." Loki stopped, seeing tears welling in his mother's eyes. He looked away.

"Look at me," said Frigga, her voice unquavering. Loki grudgingly did as he was told, though he avoided making direct eye contact. "You're not alone, Loki. You are my still my son." She reached up and placed her hand on his face—or at least the illusion's hand. Loki, eyes stinging, placed his own hand over where hers would have been, and watched as the illusion dissipated in a wave of green. He sat back down and, after making sure no one could see him, let fall the tears he had been holding back for so long.


	3. Chapter 3

The days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months. Every so often "Frigga" would visit, but never for very long. Sometimes they would converse cordially, as though they were merely old acquaintences. Sometimes Loki would blow a fuse and yell, although he regretted it each time the moment he saw the hurt look on her face. Other times, he would just listen. Those times were often his favorites. He would simply sit and listen to her tell stories and hum lullabies as though he were a small child, her familiar voice lulling him into a shaky peace. Every now and then, during those times, Loki believed that he recognized a faint shadow of happiness passing over him. However, it was never quite pure. He didn't think it ever could be again.

There were a few times when Frigga would visit when something was actually happening in the dungeons. More often than not, it would just be when new prisoners were being escorted in, but it still provided a bit more food for conversation. "I wonder what he did." "Well, that one looks scary." "I always had a bit of a bad feeling about that one." It was one such day that would forever be burned into Loki's mind. One such day that Loki would never forgive himself for.

It was a fairly large group of new prisoners that day. Loki was feeling on edge, and he was in an even fouller mood than usual while he watched the new prisoners being escorted to their cells. "Odin continues to bring me new friends. How thoughtful." Loki's words oozed sarcasm.

"The books I sent, do they not interest you?" said Frigga.

"Is that how I am to while away eternity, reading?"

"I've done everything I can to make you comfortable, Loki," pressed Frigga.

"Have you?" said Loki, leaning towards her over the table. "Does Odin share your concern? Does Thor?"

"You know full well that it was your actions that brought you here," Frigga said sternly.

"My actions." Loki turned and began pacing to the other side of the cell. "I was merely giving truth to the lie that I've been fed my whole life, that I was 'born to be a king.'"

"A true king admits his faults," said Frigga, looking pointedly at him. "What of the lives you took on Earth?"

"A mere handful compared to the number that Odin has taken himself," Loki shot back.

"Your father—"

"HE'S NOT MY FATHER!" Loki yelled. He had snapped again. The mere mention of Odin when he was in such a mood was enough to set him off. He gazed unflinchingly at Frigga, whose expression had saddened.

"Then am I not your mother?"

Loki paused, taken aback. Then he said something he regretted immediately. "You're not." He wanted to apologize the moment he saw her face fall, but his pride wouldn't let him.

Frigga smiled sadly. "Always so perceptive," she said, "about everyone but yourself." She held out her hands as though waiting for him to take them. He shook his head as his hand glided through hers, watching sadly as her face disappeared. Blinking hard, he told himself that he would apologize the next time he saw her.  
A time that would never come.

Loki lay back down on his bed and began leafing through a book, though it wasn't of particular interest. He was having trouble focusing; there was an odd feeling in his gut, and he couldn't tell if it was guilt or foreboding. Perhaps a mixture of both.

Bored, he picked up a cup that was on the table and began toying with it, turning it into a snake and watching it slither around. As it slipped off the table, Loki caught it and turned it back into a cup. Slipping back onto his bed, he began tossing it up in the air and catching it. The feeling in his gut had not gone away.

Suddenly, he heard commotion coming from one of the cells. Curious, and eager for a distraction, he sat up and ventured to the edge of his own cell, peering out in the direction of the sound.

In one of the cells towards the end of the hall, it looked as though something was exploding. It was filled with dark grey smoke, and a number of the prisoners were banging against the forcefield that kept them in. All of a sudden a shockwave was sent out from the center of the smoke, and the prisoners fell to the ground. Loki watched attentively as the chaos played out. A hulking creature emerged and picked up one of the prisoners, slamming them against the forcefield and making it bulge outward. A moment later, the creature completely punched through it, earning an impressed nod from Loki.

With ease it took down the guards, continuing down the hall and breaking through forcefields and releasing prisoners left and right. Finally, a decent chance at escape. It soon approached Loki's cell and raised its fist. Loki met its gaze intently, smirking. At last, he would be freed from his damned cell, and amidst the commotion it would be easy to escape.

But it wasn't so.

The creature appeared to think for a moment before lowering its fist. Disappointment flooded Loki as he glared down at the monster, watching as it turned away. "You might want to take the stairs to the left," he said derisively. The creature shot him a look before taking his advice. Loki sighed deeply, watching as the chaos unfolded around him and feeling oddly detached from it all. Even another monster didn't see Loki as fit enough to release. Turning away from the battles raging outside, he picked up a book and sat on the ground, as near to the fighting as he could be.

The guards were beating back the angry prisoners. Loki read. Fandral and Volstagg joined the fray. Loki turned a page. Finally, Loki made out an all-too familiar voice amidst the all but overwhelming noise. "Very well, you do not have my word." Then there was the sound of a very heavy hammer colliding with someone's body.

Ah. There he was. Loki had figured that it was only a matter of time before his brother came to save the day yet again. He rolled his eyes and made a particular effort to appear completely uninterested in everything going on around him, dramatically turning another page of his book.

Eventually the battle in the dungeon died down. By the sound coming from above, it had moved on into the upper part of Asgard. Loki stood, facing away from the cell's forcefield wall. It was as he had expected; Thor had left the dungeon without so much as a glance in Loki's direction. Shrugging it off and ignoring the feeling of abandonment, Loki once again settled on his bed, thinking. The whole fiasco couldn't be simply a prison break; there was too much chaos going on up above for just that. Loki figured that it was an invasion of sorts. For a moment his heart began to race. Could it be that the Other and Thanos had found him, that they were wreaking havoc up above to get to him? Loki shook his head. No, that couldn't be. If they had come for him, then the monster would likely have taken him alone, not left him in his cell and released all the others. No, it was likely that it was some other enemy of Asgard. And at the moment, Loki didn't really care. After all, what was there for him to lose? It wasn't really his home, anyway. There were few he cared about in the first place.

He just hoped that eventually, once things had calmed down, Frigga would visit again.


	4. Chapter 4

A few hours had passed, and Loki guessed that the battle was over. There were no more sounds of fighting coming from above. In fact, it was eerily silent. Asgard had likely won the battle, but sustained great losses. Up above they would most likely be performing a ceremony for those who had died in battle.

Loki felt odd, though he couldn't quite pinpoint why. It was strange to think that all that fighting had gone on entirely without him. In the past, he had tended to be right in the midst of it. Never had he had to sit by and wait to merely hear of what had gone on, and it was somewhat disconcerting. He had tried to read, but had felt distracted, his mind wandering.

He wondered when Frigga's next visit would be, and hoped she would tell him what had gone on during the battle. After all, Loki was far too proud to ask a mere guard.


	5. Chapter 5

Loki had been trying to read again when he found out. He stood when he saw a guard coming down the stairs, aiming see what his purpose was. The guard slowly and reluctantly approached Loki's cell. Loki peered warily at the guard, who looked as if he needed to speak but was uneasy about what he had to say.

"I... I have been sent to inform you that Queen Frigga was slain in battle. She fell bravely at the hands of a monster called Kurse. My condolences."

The words sounded almost robotic, but they hit Loki with nearly physical force. He wanted to say something witty and cold in response, in self-defense, but all he could muster around the knot in his throat was a small nod. The guard turned to leave, and for a moment Loki stood rooted to the spot in shock. It couldn't be. It had to be a cruel trick, a lie meant to break him. Deep down he knew that such methods were not often in Odin's repertoire, that the news was true. And broken him it had. He sensed the loss deeply as only a family member could.

Anger welled inside him. He sent out a shockwave that blasted the furniture against the walls before he remembered what he had told himself long ago: He couldn't let anyone see him broken. No one would see him fall, no matter if he had or not. Broken though he was, he enveloped the entire cell in an illusion, making it look as though he was replacing the furniture to their proper places. Then the real Loki shattered completely, releasing a howl of agony and rage. He was blinded by it completely as he wreaked havoc on his cell, destroying everything he could. Then he fell to the ground, his body wracked by heaving sobs.

There was so little he had ever had that he had wanted, and bit by bit it had all been wrenched from him. First the throne, then his home. His glory on Midgard had been lost before it had even come. The freedom he had once enjoyed was now entirely absent. And now his mother, the last bit of brightness in his life, was truly gone forever. And his last words to her... Loki howled once more, the sound escaping his lips against his will.

He could have saved her, if only he had been released. If he hadn't told Kurse which staircase to take, perhaps it wouldn't have found her quickly enough.

Loki violently kicked the remains of the glass table, which cut into his foot. If he had cried out in pain, it would have been indistinguishable from his sounds of anguish.

Had she died believing that he didn't love her? Had she even thought of him? Loki sank to the ground. He had never done it. He had never made her proud.

Loki wished he could claw his heart out. He wanted to stop feeling. Nothing good ever came from growing attached to anything. The moment he thought he had something, he would just lose it again. When would he learn?


	6. Chapter 6

Grief took its toll on the fallen prince. Loki hadn't eaten anything since he had learned of Frigga's death, and had grown thin and pale. His entire appearance in disarray, his clothes were ragged and his hair a black, matted mess. Sleep had evaded him entirely, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. But not once did he let his illusion falter. The illusion looked to be eating and sleeping, leaving the real Loki to remain uninterrupted in his sorrow, and standing as a constant reminder of Frigga's teachings.

The anger had, for the most part, passed. Loki was left with nothing but his grief. He felt empty, a gaping hole in his heart. The loneliness had once again settled over him like a suffocating blanket, and this time there was little chance of it being lifted. Sometimes Loki was grateful for the solitude, but more often than not he only wished for someone to share in his sorrow.

Loki's thoughts every so often would stray to his brother. Surely Thor was mourning Frigga as well. During Loki's weakest moments, when his shell was at its thinnest, he longed for a time when they had been naught but children, simple brothers, harboring little worry or strife. A time that, like so many things, was lost.  
Immediately after such thoughts surfaced Loki would try remind himself of how often Thor had unwittingly cast great shadows over everything Loki had ever done. For a moment, it would rekindle Loki's animosity, but never for long, and never strongly. The animosity he held towards Thor was far outweighed by Loki's rage and grief at Frigga's fate.

Perhaps it was just grasping at a frayed thread destined to break, but in some deep corner of Loki's fractured mind and heart, he wished for the company of one who knew him well. Though he denied it even to himself, Loki wanted to see his brother again.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki wasn't sure how much time had passed. It could have been hours, or it could have been days. Time's flow appears murky when one is tired and in pain. The illusion of Loki stalked to and fro, flicking through illusionary books every so often as the real Loki sat dejected against the wall. He heard familiar footsteps, and in his place the fake Loki peered out of the cell.

Oh. Look who it was.

Thor approached the cell, the look on his face far more serious and taut than Loki ever remembered seeing. Loki sighed. Now that Frigga was gone, Odin had probably warranted Loki's death sentence, and Thor had come to mete it out. It would explain why he looked so grim.

"Now you come to visit me, brother," spat Loki through his cool and collected illusion. "Why? To gloat? To mock?" Thor's expression didn't change.

"Loki, enough. No more illusions." Thor's words, spoken with utter surety, took Loki entirely by surprise. How had Thor managed to see through the magic? Usually he was so thick-skulled about it. But evidently he knew Loki better than the mischief maker gave him credit for. Shaking his head, Loki gave in, letting the illusion dissipate and reveal the wreckage of his cell. What had he to lose?

"Now you see me, brother," Loki said bitterly. There was a pause, then, "Did she suffer?" Loki's voice, which had been out of use, was quiet and brittle.

"I did not come to share our grief," said Thor heavily. "Instead I offer you a far richer sacrament. I know you seek revenge just as much as I do. Help me escape Asgard, and I will grant it to you. Vengeance. And afterward this cell."

Loki laughed bitterly. "You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. What makes you think you can truat me?"

"I don't. Mother did." Loki felt a pang at the mention of Frigga. He turned away as Thor continued. "You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with a glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere. That hope no longer exists to protect you. You betray me, and I will kill you." Of course. Even the ever-trusting Thor had to have his limits. Although, Loki still didn't quite believe in Thor's capability to do what he threatened; the thunder god simply wasn't wired that way. Nontheless, the idea of vengeance appealed immensely, no matter the consequences. Love, pain, and rage are viscious motivators, and Loki possessed them all in abundance. Such emotions, especially when combined, provided a keen desire for revenge.

A conversation from long ago floated into his mind: "We might not be able to save the earth, but you'll be damn well sure we'll avenge it." Despite who the words had come from and what they referred to, alone they struck a chord with Loki at that moment. Although he had failed to protect Frigga, he would not fail to exact revenge on the monster that had taken her from him and his brother. He looked pointedly at Thor, whom he saw with a shade of his old fondness, the broken bond between them strengthened by shared loss.

"Hm," Loki said, cocking his head. "When do we start?"

~END~


End file.
